


Moving pictures

by Redrocketeer



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotions, Feelings, Gen, Mostly just snapshots, Promptis if you squint, Prompto centric, Spoilers for Chapter 10, spoilers for end of game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrocketeer/pseuds/Redrocketeer
Summary: Prompto is the mirror and the keeper of memories for the team and their journey.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was the very first thing I wrote after finishing the game and it was party for healing and mostly a gift for a friend who was as emotionally devastated by the game as I was.
> 
> I have no idea if this helps.

Prompto sat outside the tent, riffling through his photo collection in the fading light. His new album rested on his lap, creaking a little as he opened it, its spine still stiff from lack of use. Not every photo made the cut, as had always been his way. Only the ones he thought worth a second look made it into his album. As he slid a few of his chosen ones under the protective sheet he felt a presence beside him. A moment later a rough voice said “You should keep that one. Lighting looks good.” Prompto smiled involuntarily from the compliment. It meant a lot, coming from Gladio, a man who wasn’t easily impressed. 

“You think so? I tried to show off the sun on the water.”   
“Well, I think you got it.”  
Prompto looked at the photo for a moment, his tone becoming thoughtful. “Noct looks pretty chill when he’s fishing, doesn’t he.” There was an obvious undercurrent of affection in Prompto’s voice that drew a brief chuckle from Gladio.   
“Maybe you should tell His Highness you feel like fish for dinner tomorrow night,” he said before he wandered off to feed the chocobos.

Prompto slipped the picture into one of the coveted spots in the album. He counted what he had so far. Twenty-three photographs. He had room for many more.

***  
Prompto flopped in the bed of the hotel he felt they were truly lucky to see. His hair felt full of grit, his face covered in a sheen of sweat that matched exactly the rest of the team. He didn’t mind taking last shot at the shower but he hoped the others didn’t take too long. 

He lifted a heavy arm, glad he still had it. He couldn’t remember whose idea the Behemoth had been but he hoped they didn’t have that idea again for at least a few days. Or ever would be good. 

Noctis had stumbled first into the shower then had gone for a walk leaving Prompto to wait his turn. As he often did when he had a quiet moment Prompto sorted through his pictures from the day so he could share them with his friends before they settled down to sleep. The things the camera could capture allowed him to understand better what went on in the heat of battle and he’d found great beauty in the manifestation of Noctis’ abilities. He stared at the sizzling blue shadow that Noctis left behind when he warped to follow his weapon, so fragile looking in that familiar shape, before the might of the behemoth, like the thinnest glass on the point of shattering yet it was a mark of true power.

“I don’t think I ever want to see another one of those things,” Noctis complained, holding out a kebab to Prompto as he caught sight of the behemoth picture. “Thought you might be hungry,” he added. 

“Thanks!” Prompto said cheerfully over the growl of his stomach. He’d been so focused on his task he hadn’t noticed the movement in the room.

“Gladio still in the shower?” the crown prince said as he flopped down in the bed they would share for the night.   
“No, he said he had something to do downstairs. Just waiting on Ignis and then it’s me.” Going last had the advantage of much less pressure to be quick. He felt like he had days of grime to rinse away and he was sure his hair was standing on end by virtue of its crust. He wasn’t going to hurry out of that blessed hot stream once he got near it.

Noctis stretched his arms over his head carefully. “He won’t be long. He never takes a second longer than he has to.” Then he settled on the pillows and finished his kebab. Picking up the photo he curled his lip, “It had better taste better than whatever’s in these.” He waved his kebab stick and made a face as Prompto took the photo and slid it into his album. Fifty-eight spaces were gone. There was still a lot of room left to fill. 

“Tastes alright to me,” Prompto said, eating happily, gratefully, sustained by far more than simple meat and sauce.

 

***  
“Wow, it’s really soft.”  
“Well it is a baby, Highness. It requires the down for warmth.” A moment later. “It’s exceedingly soft!”  
“Can I hold it for the photo?”  
A snort. “Can you even lift it after the morning we’ve had?”  
“Oh you weigh nothing at all, don’t you little- omph. Wow, Wiz has been feeding you well, hasn’t he little guy!”  
“He sure has, and he’s nice enough to take the photo for us. Try not to keep him waiting, okay Prompto?”  
“No worries, just getting this one comfortable.”  
“Alright fellas, and say ‘gysahl greens’!”   
“Peep.”

***

“Do you mind if I… take your picture?” Prompto asked, his voice hesitant, unusually shy.  
“Oh… of course not,” Ignis said, every inch of him dignified despite the flecks of emotion in his voice. He straightened, turning his head towards Prompto’s voice.  
As Prompto raised the camera Ignis held up a hand. “Just a moment.” His hand continued up to his head, touching briefly at his hair to make sure all was in order. “Very well,” he said a moment later. “I’m ready.”

“Looking good!” the young photographer assured his subject cheerily.  
Prompto made a point to take as many photographs of Iggy as he did of any of the others, as many as he did before, when his subject could enjoy them. He was sure Ignis would liked to be asked. He was sure it was better he was reminded he was still one of the them. He was pretty sure it wasn’t just a reminder of what Ignis had lost but a reminder of what he’d never lose. 

Still he asked carefully, just in case.

Ignis faced the camera but his eyes didn’t address the lense. It gave him a thoughtful look, as if he was only distracted. Prompto could see Ignis’ eyes closed through his glasses as if he was protecting them from the flash but there was no flash and it wouldn’t have mattered if there was.

He took the shot. Ignis held still for a second after the click of the shutter before shifting his weight. “Did the picture you took at breakfast come out alright? Sunrise, was it?” The sun didn’t stay up nearly long enough but, still, it rose. Still Ignis could feel the weak morning light. An endangered species was always a worthy subject.

Prompto chuckled, impressed.

“Yeah. All the reds and purples. It was-”  
“Beautiful? It’s alright. I like hearing about what you see. No one sees quite like you do.”

Prompto swallowed, smiled, and gave his 137th photograph pride of place.

“I was gonna say it looked like a bruise. You remember that time that Noct was too slow and Gladio gave him that black eye?”  
There was a small smile in Ignis’ voice as he said, “Thank you for proving my point.”

***  
There was no camera. There were no photographs. There was only fear and burning and that slithering voice crawling into his ear and under his hair. He was bait. He knew he was bait and he knew he didn’t deserve what he hoped his friends would do but… but… his eyes never left the door.

Noct. Noct. Please. Please. Please let me be right.

***  
It was the palace, in the end, that took the last place. Imposing, solemn in the darkness, the site of all their worst fears come true, the site of their only hope. It was the palace that four would enter, three would leave. The place that saw his King’s first breath would see his last.

Who would have thought hundred-and-fifty photographs would have been enough to see them out?

*** 

“Prompto. Can I see your photos?”

“Um, yeah.”

“I just need one… to take with me.”

“Oh… yeah. I get it.”

“Um, you can take whichever you like.”

It seemed unfair to offer only one when they had so many left. It seemed almost impossibly hard to give up even one. 

Four boys, hands on each other’s shoulders. Eight eyes, all clear and bright, looking eternity dead in the eye. The sun almost too dazzling to see through, the sky deepest blue.

“Now you can’t beat that. A shot of all four of us together.”

***

His old album rested on his lap, creaking a little as he opened it, its spine stiff from years of use. It lay across Prompto’s lap, his tired fingers stroking over corners and edges, faces and feathers. They lingered over campsites and battles, brushed the curves of a beautiful car and a beautiful girl but the place they lingered longest held no photograph at all.

A space all out of place, in the middle, not the end. A space not waiting to be filled. Set aside. It held everything in its slender borders. Prompto rested his fingertips there and smiled that smile so few would ever understand. 

“Goodnight, Noct,” he said softly. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Hope you're saving a space for us too.”


End file.
